Page 44 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“I may have to,” he allowed. “But before I do, I would like to know what that was about. Why are you here, alone, in the cold?”
“It was nothing, Your Grace.” The words came out in the same clipped, half-choked voice.
“Nothing?” His eyebrows drew together. “If it were nothing, you would still be in that drawing room, enduring their chatter.”
Her slight flinch struck him instantly.
He softened, though the question still hovered on the tip of his tongue. “Forgive me, but I saw the women there. I saw enough to know that it was notnothing.”
“You don’t know what happened. You weren’t there.”
“Precisely,” he replied firmly. “That is why I am asking. I would know if one of them insulted you.”
“They didn’t.” The denial was too quick, too brittle. “And if they had, it is none of your concern, Your Grace. It is mine, and mine alone.”
Gerard did not like the sound of that. Not the words, nor the steely pride behind them. He had caught glimpses before, hints of why Lady Slyham believed herself forced to stand alone, but this… this outright refusal of help unsettled him.
He could not accept it, not when he saw the future still stretching before her, even for a widow, and not when he saw the stiff set of her shoulders.
“Why should it be solely yours?” he asked, more quietly now. “Where is your mother when you most need defending?”
She lifted her chin, though she still refused to face him. “Do you take me for a damsel in distress, Your Grace?”
“No, Lady Slyham. I take you for a woman who has borne more than she should, and who still believes she must bear it alone. That is what I will not allow.”
“You presume a great deal, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice lower now.
“And yet,” Gerard said, stepping closer, his hands loose at his sides, “I would rather presume too much than leave you to whatever indignities were inflicted inside.”
She finally met his eyes, searching for that flicker of reproach she often expected from men and finding none. Only certainty—quiet, steady, unyielding.
“I am not so weak as to need defending,” she declared defiantly.
“Perhaps not,” Gerard relented. “But there is nothing dishonorable in allowing someone who cares, or who ought to care, to be near when the world proves itself thoughtless.”
The words lingered between them, carried on the soft rustle of leaves and the faint chill of the evening air.
Eventually, she spoke, her voice steadier than he had expected. “The bookshop.” She looked him right in the eye. “You paid for our books. You did not even ask if you could. Do you have the slightest notion, Your Grace, of what that looks like to others? Even my mother will not cease asking questions about you.”
Gerard felt the rebuke keenly. He had known what she meant the moment she opened her mouth, but he had not thought his impulse that day would become such a burden to her. He had no wish to harm her reputation.
“It looks likegratitude,” he stated carefully. “Hector is very fond of you.”
“Gratitude?” Her laugh was brittle, sharp as glass. “Do you truly believe people will take it so? They already suspect that my return to Society is but a search for a husband. Your presencemakes it seem like something else entirely. That I am in search of a lover. Or worse, for someone willing to—God forbid—buy me.”
“I was notbuying,” Gerard insisted. “At least nothing beyond the volumes I could tell you and your sister would cherish.”
They stood much too near. He knew it was unwise. It was courting trouble. And yet the night itself seemed to conspire with them, the lamplight casting a glow on her features, as if daring him to forget himself.
“You—” He broke off, his voice catching on a breath he hadn’t meant to take. “You unsettle me, Lady Slyham. There is something about you, something impossible to ignore, that makes the world fade whenever you are near.”
The words slipped out, almost an accusation.
Her eyes widened, as though he had revealed a secret he had not meant to share.
Perhaps he had. For what kind of woman was this widow with fire in her eyes, who made him notice what he had long trained himself to overlook?
Her lips parted, a pale wisp of breath rising in the cold air.
